


Old Fiends

by badskippy



Category: Lenape Landing, Original Work
Genre: Cambion, F/M, M/M, Tarot, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:54:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all immortals are created equal ....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Fiends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/gifts).
  * Inspired by [In the Cards](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1405999) by [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle). 



 

            The club was fantastic. Music thumped and people danced and the general atmosphere was very lively. The energy was almost tangible; well, it was for Jason any way. All he had to do was close his eyes and he could feel the auras about him.

            Of course, if he were to ask his Damien, the explanation would run the course of bio-electrochemical energy generated by the nervous system and amplified by brain and etc. etc. etc.

            Life-force really, but _aura_ will do in a pinch.

            But Jason didn’t feel like closing his eyes, for they were trained on his one desire and that was one thing he didn’t want to let out of his sight.

            “Well, well, well,” came a smooth voice from behind. “Fancy seeing the elusive Mister Cambion out and about.”

            Jason didn’t need to turn around. “Morgan.” Jason turned his head as the beautiful young man sidled up next to him at the railing overlooking the dance floor.

            Morgan _was_ beautiful; even Jason would admit that. Five-ten, long auburn hair and pale skin. It was the icy blue eyes that were the draw for most, but anyone would be hard pressed to deny the eloquence and allure of the slim, feline-like body.

            “Oh, dear,” Morgan said as he leaned on the railing, copying Jason’s stance. “Are we not in a good mood?”

            “Just not in the mood to deal with you.”

            Morgan smiled but it wasn’t in the least bit warm. “Now, now—play nice. We don’t want to make a scene.”

            “Why are you here?”

            “Funny, I was going to ask you the same question.”

            “But I asked first.”

            “That’s an infantile evasion,” Morgan brushed his hair back over his shoulders. “But I don’t care; I am . . . browsing.”

            Jason didn’t respond either with words, looks, or gesture.

            “So, we’re back to you. Why _are_ you here?”

            Once again Jason didn’t respond.

            “I see I’ll have to guess,” Morgan said, straightening up and looking about the dance floor as one would one look about at a butcher’s display case. “Of course, there are only three reasons to be here; boredom, browsing, or buying.”

            Jason wanted to roll his eyes. He wanted to snarl and grab Morgan by his neck. He wanted to drag Morgan into the alley and take him out right then and there!

            “Let’s not be ugly, Jason,” Morgan whispered.

            Jason could get ugly if Morgan really wanted him to.

            “Yes, I’m sure you can,” Morgan sighed. “Why all this hostility, my friend?”

            “More like _fiends_ ,” Jason said flatly. “We aren’t friends, Morgan _._ I don’t like you.”

            “What does that matter?” Morgan drawled with a small chuckle. “I have lots of friends I don’t like.”

            Jason closed his mind as much as he could. He cleared it of words and images, lest Morgan read them. Only his heart would not obey and no sooner had the emotions within him blossomed up, than he watched with a sinking feeling in his stomach as Damien turned to him from the dance floor, and gave Jason a brilliant smile and a little wave. Jason hoped it was too fleeting for Morgan to pick up.

            Sadly, his hope was for no good.

            “Ah-ha,” Morgan said with a toothy grin. “No need for you to browse—you’ve already made your purchase.”

            “Back off,” Jason snarled as he tried to control his temper.

            Morgan was far from afraid. “Keep your horns on,” Morgan looked the young man on the dance floor over and noticed that the pretty girl with rainbow dyed-hair nearby was with him. “They’re both rather yummy.”

            “I told you to back off, Morgan,” Jason stood tall and while he towered over Morgan, the shorter man was not impressed.

            “Don’t go all hellish on me,” Morgan said almost bored. “You know perfectly well that I don’t steal another man’s score.” He looked at Jason earnestly. “Of course, the little witch with him is up for grabs.”

            “I didn’t think she was your type.”

            “Not normally, but she has power. Far more than even she knows.”

            “Better be careful then.”

            “I was going to give you the same advice.”

            “We haven’t had any problem so far.”

            “But you could if you aren’t . . . discreet.”

            “Like you even know what that word means.”

            Morgan smiled and shrugged. “So you say, but I wouldn’t have survived all these long centuries without it.”

            “Hey, there,” said a cheerful voice and both Jason and Morgan turned around to great its owner.

            “Hey, beautiful,” Jason said with a smile, giving Damien a kiss.

            “Who’s your friend?” Damien asked turning towards the auburn-haired Morgan.

            Before Jason could even respond, Morgan stuck out a hand and grabbed Damien’s attention. “Morgan Eliot,” Morgan said as Damien took the cold hand offered. “Jason and I are old friends.”

            “No, we’re not,” Jason said dryly.

            Damien laughed but looked unsure. “Damien Foster. Nice to meet you, Morgan.” Damien pumped Morgan’s hand a few times and then let go. He seemed uncomfortable.

            “Nice to meet you and don’t pay any attention to Jason,” Morgan said with a sly smile. “We have a love/hate relationship; he loves to pretend he hates me!” Morgan laughed and that got Damien laughing as well. Morgan than turned to the young woman next to Damien. “And you must be Camela?”

            “That’s right,” Camela said with a flick of her hair.

            “Jason tells me you read tarot,” Morgan continued. “He says you’re frightfully good.”

            “Well,” Camela replied with a blush. “I wouldn’t say that.”

            “Oh, come now,” Morgan said quietly. “Don’t be shy. Read me.”

            “I’m sorry?” Camela looked like a rabbit before a snake.

            “Read my cards,” Morgan said, softy. “Just for fun.”

            “You don’t have to,” Jason said quietly to Camela.

            “Don’t be a spoil-sport,” Morgan gave a mock scowl to Jason. “It’s all in good fun—right Cam?”

            Camela appeared unsure as she looked back and forth between Jason and Morgan. She finally looked at Damien but got no help there. “Okay, sure.”

            “Great,” Morgan smiled. If his smile didn’t reach his eyes, no one seemed to notice. Well, no one but Jason.

            They sat at a nearby table with Morgan across from Camela. She reached into her bag and pulled out her cards and began to shuffle. She continued until she thought they were ready then spread them out flat, in a long line in front of her.

            “Okay, pick a card,” Camela instructed Morgan. He choose one and handed it face down to Cam, all the while never taking his eyes from her face.

            She flipped it over.

            _Death_

“Oh dear,” Morgan said with a mock grimace.

            “It’s not so bad,” Camela replied. “It usually means _transition to a new state_ or _change.”_

            “So, as you say—not so bad,” Morgan was already pulling out another card and handing it to Camela face down.

            She flipped over the second one.

            _The Tower_

The little smile she wore faded.

            “And what does that mean?” Morgan asked quietly with raised brows.

            “Well,” Camela said slowly. “Many consider The Tower a bad sign: it usually means _downfall_ or _ruin_.”

            Morgan nodded but once again, he was already drawing another card and handing it face down to Cam.

            She flipped over the last card and the color drained from her face.

            _Ten of Swords._

            There was silence at the table and, if they had been asked, the humans there would have said that they felt a chill.

            “I take it that card is unhappy?” Morgan quipped sounding anything but unhappy.

            Camela opened her mouth but it took several long seconds before anything came out. “This card usually means _absolute destruction_ or _hopelessness_.”

            Once again, Morgan gave the other two men mock grimaces. “Seems my future is bleak!” He laughed at this but he was the only one; Jason sat stone-faced while Camela and Damien shared pale, worried looks, as Morgan spoke again. “So I’m in for a transition that may lead to ruin and finally absolute destruction lacking any hope.”

            Camela didn’t respond and once again shared a pale look with Damien; it was too close to the truth.

            Morgan shrugged. “C’est le vive.” He laughed again in a mirthless way before suddenly getting a focused look in his eye and turning his head as if following something in the distance. “Well, that was fun,” Morgan said as he stood up. “But I really do need to get going.” He held out a hand for Camela who took it slowly. “Camela, it was a pleasure to meet you, as it was you, Damien,” Morgan shook Damien’s hand as he released Camela’s and then turned to Jason. “Jason, always a pleasure.”

            “Wish I could say the same,” Jason said with a small smile that was as icy as Morgan’s eyes.

            Morgan just laughed loudly but it still seemed to lack any humor. With that he quickly moved away and exited the club via the back door leading to the alley.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Morgan stepped out into the cool night air and quickly scanned the area for his prey. It only took a few seconds before spotting the tall, dark haired man walking towards the car-park. Morgan made to follow quickly before he lost him.

            Even from a block away, the man’s mind was easy for Morgan to read. _What a moron,_ Morgan laughed to himself _, Believes he’s God’s gift. No matter. By the time I’m done he’ll be praying to God for help–too bad those prayers will go unanswered._

            As he got closer to his mark, Morgan looked into the reflective window of a car and checked his look; yep, fangs at the ready, white and gleaming. If he was going to drink a man dry, he felt he should at least look good doing it!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Daywalker: A Lenape Landing Thriller](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2148774) by [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle)




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